


Pretty Boy

by webstersBreakfast



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, College, Dorms, M/M, One Shot, Roommates, dave does photography, idk i might write more eventually, probably a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webstersBreakfast/pseuds/webstersBreakfast
Summary: When Dave comes home with a wad of cash, Karkat soon finds out how he won it. But he doesn't quite get the full story...





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment any constructive criticism, or even just if you liked it! Comments always brighten my day. Hope you enjoy! :)

Dave Strider is an okay guy, but he’s a real shitty roommate. That’s not an insult, just the truth. For instance, within two weeks of moving in, Karkat had to start going to Sollux’s room next door when he wanted to shower. Why? Because Dave had turned their bathroom into a darkroom for his photography projects. If that doesn’t scream “total asshole”, he had also brought his very own electronic drumkit, and decided that the best place for it was right where Karkat’s bed was. Oh, sorry, where Karkat’s bed _would’ve_ been if they weren’t too broke to afford a second mattress. The first few nights in the dorms had been an awkward situation of sleeping facing away from each other and with a bundle of blankets affectionately referred to as the “no homo wall” by Dave. Eventually Karkat got tired of rolling off the bed in the middle of the night, and so every day they alternated between who got the bed and who got the couch. (Karkat provided a handy chart that sat next to the Scott Pilgrim poster on the wall.)

It was a Karkat-on-couch night when Dave strolled in at 12:30 with $500 in cash in his hand, startling Karkat from his Food Network marathon. He started kicking off his shoes and rapping softly under his breath. “Yeah, ya boi got the money… makin’ breakfast… eggs all runny… nah that’s dumb as hell, what rhymes with money?” Karkat sat up and stared at the money in Dave’s hand. “What the fuck is that?” Dave whirled around, “Shit man, didn’t know you were awake, sorry. Anyway, this? It’s called legal tender my man, it can be exchanged for goods and services.” “It better be exchanged for another fucking mattress,” Karkat said, slumping back down and fixing his eyes on Gordon Ramsey “your couch is more rips than cloth at this point.” Dave didn’t reply, and instead opted to start removing that red varsity jacket boasting the “UA Supers” football team and his weirdly tight “Second best Grandma” t-shirt which Karkat obviously had no reason to want to watch. Obviously.

The new-found riches weren’t brought up again until the next morning, when Karkat awoke to Dave exclaiming “shit!” every time the grease from the bacon he was cooking jumped up. The dorm room was actually pretty nice, it had an attached bathroom, a mini kitchen, and was nearly as large as two normal dorm rooms put together. The luxury probably had something to do with Dave’s brother’s mysterious home business that somehow made him unreasonable amounts of money. Which brings us back to the wad of cash of unknown origin. “Mornin’ sunshine.” Dave greeted, seeing Karkat, freshly conscious, groggily sitting up on the couch. Uncomfortable with the dangerously high levels of domesticity, Karkat replied “Hey dickweed, thanks for making breakfast. Hope you remembered to turn on the stove this time.” “Ah Karks, you know just how to smooth talk a lady. Coffee’s on the counter, next to the fridge.” That was another thing, he was always insanely aggravating one second, and then so damned considerate the next. It was like trying to live with a human pack of Icy-Hot.

A few minutes into breakfast, Karkat spoke up; “So, what are you actually going to use that money for anyway?” Dave chewed and thought for a second, “Probably gonna get a record player, some polaroid film, and some random cheap shit off Amazon. It is $500 after all, I can get a few things for that.” “Speaking of,” Karkat said “how’d you get so much cash anyway? Are you dealing crack or some shit?” Dave snickered. “Close, I’m a male stripper now.” Ah yes, the classic dilemma of “is Dave fucking with me or did he actually do some unspeakably dumb shit for ‘the irony’?” Karkat dealt with this one on a daily basis and knew the best way to find out was to wait about 5 seconds until he clarified. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’,” there it is “I won it in a photography contest.” Huh, turns out that having to use Hackerman’s shampoo for the last 3 months was worth it. “Which photo was good enough for 500 bucks? I thought I’d seen, and felt, all your shit when it was hanging across the room on string at perfect neck level.” 

Dave paused for some reason, like he was almost… embarrassed? “Ah, it was just one of the school campus n’ shit, judges eat up that shit like, uhhh… Oh! Like that guy in the one episode of The Twilight Zone, y’know the one where he’s like, dead, and he’s going fuckin crazy on some Chinese takeout, you know what I’m talking about right?” Alright, that was a weird level of deflection for a photography question, but whatever. Dave was weird, no secret there. “So anyway, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, as if Karkat had time to do anything other than study if he didn’t want to fail out of college. “The _plan_ is to sit on our shitty sofa and look over textbooks until my brain melts. Some of us actually care about our grades.” Karkat picked up their plates and placed them in the sinks. Damnit, there’s that weird domestic shit again. “Asshole.” He added, the world balanced once again. “I care about my grades man, I just don’t need to study. Shit sticks to my brain like crazy glue.” “Yes, and I will forever hate you for that.” 

“Okay, but seriously, we gotta do somethin’. You’ll get scurvy if you stay inside the house all day.” Alright, guess Dave’s really pushing this one. “Fuck, look, if I go do something with you will you leave me alone to wallow through Thoreau in peace for the rest of the weekend?” “Absolutely.” The smile that lit up Dave’s face sent a weird jolt through Karkat’s stomach. What the fresh hell was that? Well, no time to think on it, Dave was already putting on that dumb jacket again. That dumb, probably soft, too-big-for-Karkat jacket. _I bet it smells like that apple bodywash he likes_ said a little gremlin residing somewhere near Karkat’s hippocampus. “Shit, what is going on with me this morning?” Karkat thought. “Did Gamzee slip me sopor or something?” Karkat’s thoughts were interrupted by Dave jangling his keys from near the door. “You with me, or is the ‘Karkat Sits In The Dark All Day’ party back on?” Karkat grumbled, but tugged his torn up Vans on and followed Dave out of the room.

Eventually they found themselves in the food-court of the mall a few miles off campus. “Dude, why does Panda Express have so many options? Lo Mein, Orange Chicken, that’s strange, I’m havin’ trouble pickin’.” “If you start rapping about Panda Express, I swear to god, I’ll actually smother you in your sleep.” Karkat was trying to figure out how to get his 26 quarters to add up to 8.56, but Dave stopped his hand mid-count. Damnit, there’s that weird stomachache again. “Don’t worry bout it man, it’s on me. I’m Mr. Moneybags now, and besides, I wanted you to hang out with me anyway.” “Whatever Bezos, get whatever’s good, I’m going to sit down.” If Karkat didn’t get rid of this weird top-of-a-rollercoaster feeling soon he’d have to seriously consider calling urgent care.  
They ended up spending four hours at the mall and went home with a new shirt that featured a blurry picture of Ronald Reagan with “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in big impact font. (“It’s perfect man, you’re finally becoming my irony protégé”) The walk home was nearly cold, but not quite. A perfect autumn afternoon. “No, fuck you man, Jolly Ranchers are bomb as hell.” Dave chuckled from beside him, “Sorry man, can’t hear you with your teeth stuck together.” That chuckle nearly killed Karkat, but he powered through. “Oh, like Laffy Taffy is any better, it’s like someone poured Sweet n’ Low into a batch of silly putty.” The conversation had become “Best Halloween Candy” at some point on the walk home. And if Dave was walking a little closer than he really needed to, Karkat didn’t notice. For some reason that night Karkat found himself wishing it could be an "on-bed" night for both of them, but he couldn’t figure out why.

That Thursday he was having tea in Kanaya’s living room for tea. There were some benefits to living off campus, and apparently having a very kind mother named Rosa who made excellent tea was one of them. “Yeah, he was up till like, 3 in the morning tinkering with his new turntables.” Kanaya sipped her tea thoughtfully. “You sure talk about Dave a lot Karkat.” Karkat snorted, “Yeah, he’s infuriating.” “Right. Speaking of his new purchases, did you remember to congratulate him on winning?” Karkat thought back to when he brought it up again. Dave seemed to avoid it for some reason, but still went on about lighting techniques and exposure times for a few minutes. Karkat just sat and listened to him, even though he had no idea what any of it meant. It was… nice to just listen to Dave’s rambles sometimes. That’s not weird, right? “Of course I did, I’m not a complete asshole Kan.” She stood up and took their now-empty teacups into the kitchen. “You looked very nice in that one by the way. He really does have a talent.” Wait, huh? 

“What do you mean _I_ looked nice?” Kanaya looked confused. “Did you not see the picture he submitted?” “I mean, yeah, it was that one of the campus. Right?” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her photos. “Mm, no, you must be thinking of another one. This was his submission.” Karkat squinted at the phone. It was a picture of him with a guitar in his hands, head leaned back and eyes closed. His face was washed with golden light. He remembered this, it was from the one time Dave tried to teach him to play music. It sounded like a cat falling into the Grand Canyon to Karkat, but when he finished Dave was staring at him wide-eyed. Karkat didn’t remember Dave taking a picture though. Not that it wasn’t a good photo… But the part that surprised him was the title on the wall next to the picture: “Pretty Boy At Sunset.” Pretty Boy?

Karkat was sitting in the back of a taxi on the way back to campus, his mind going 50 miles per hour. Did Dave really think he was pretty? Was it more of his “irony” bullshit? And if it wasn’t, if Dave really did think of him like… that, how did Karkat feel about it? None of this had any clear answer by the time he got back to the dorms, and Karkat figured there was only one way to find out: ask Strider himself. He knocked on the door, having forgotten his keys again, and if he felt out of breath when Dave answered with no shirt and a towel draped around his neck he could totally blame that on the 4 flights of stairs. “Hey Kar,” Dave turned around and went over to the couch. “how’d it go with Kanaya?” He said over his shoulder. Karkat took a seat as far away on the couch from Dave as he could. “It was alright.” Karkat chewed his lip for a second. If he fucked this up Dave might hate him forever, and that felt like honestly the worst possible outcome right then. “She showed me your picture from the contest.”

_Shit, shit, shit that was so dumb, way to be subtle dumbass, he’ll never talk to me again._ Karkat was quickly starting to panic. He could nearly physically feel Dave tense up from across the room. “Oh?” His voice sounded clipped. “Yeah it uh… good lighting. Um. Interesting title.” Dave sucked in air through his teeth. “Ah, shit, Kat, it wasn’t like, you know how it is, I just… thought you looked cool. I guess.” Karkat didn’t know what to do. What did this mean? Dave kept rambling. “I didn’t wanna tell you what the photo was cause that’s like, mad uncool n shit, can’t be goin’ around calling your bros pretty n stuff, that totally violates bro protocol, brotocol if you will, shit I should trademark th-” “I think you look cool too.” _Shit, fuck, did I actually just say that, aw fuck._ Dave didn’t say anything for what felt like fifty years. “Karkat, do you wanna like, make out or somethin’?”

Karkat should have been offended, he should’ve thrown a shitfit, Strider you can’t just randomly ask something like that, you’re such a dick. But instead, all he could say was; “Can we please?” And so they did. Dave slowly leant across the couch, Karkat was still frozen, but when their lips finally connected he felt like he’d just been hooked up to a car battery. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire in the best way, and every inch between him and Dave felt like a million miles. Karkat had been ignoring how much he had really wanted this for who knows how long. Dave's mouth was exactly how he'd imagined, and since when did Karkat Imagine Dave's mouth? Dave's post shower still-damp skin felt like heaven under Karkat's hands. Dave tilted his head back, an obvious sign of "If you don't give me a hickey this second I might actually kill you when we're done." When his mouth found Dave's neck he made a sound straight out of every single one of Karkat's fantasies rolled into one note. Kissing Dave was like trying to put a friendship bracelet on a cat, he literally would not stop moving for even two seconds. Karkat didn't realize he had pinned Dave's wrists to the arm rest until he heard a strangled sound from below him. Karkat smirked, finally having the upper hand on Dave for the first time ever. "Hm, looks like Strider's a bottom boy, huh?" he said, voice low with desire. Dave replied at nearly a whisper, "Why don't you find out?"

An hour and a half later, Karkat was laying in bed, resting his head on Dave's still shirtless chest. Dave slowly ran his fingers through Karkat's hair as they listened to the couple in the floor above argue on the balcony. "Hey Kitkat?" Karkat groaned. "If you ask me 'What are we?' even ironically, I swear I'll never even look at you again." He laughed softly, the motion of his chest making Karkat's face go red all over again. "You know you can't resist this bod, bro. Nah, i was just gonna say" he slowly breathed out, the smile on his face invisible in the dark. "you really are very pretty." Karkat looked up into his eyes, the classic shades long since discarded. "You sappy motherfucker." And now Karkat could feel Dave's smile, because it was pressed softly against his. They both slept on the bed that night.


End file.
